


Warm

by epersonae



Series: the only life you could save [18]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Background Magnus/Lucretia - Freeform, Background Magnus/Taako/Kravitz, Backrubs, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, M/M, Polyamory, These Romantic Goobers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 19:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epersonae/pseuds/epersonae
Summary: They've known each other for years, both loved the same elf. They've shared so much of their lives; they've shared a bed and a family. And yet, now they realize that they share a bond that neither expected.





	Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the middle of chapter 3 of [The Reckoning Arrives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251296), and thus is part of [the only live you could save's continuity](https://archiveofourown.org/series/910215). 
> 
> But I think the only thing that you need to know is that Taako's off on a revenge mission, along with Merle, Carey, and Lucretia, to get Governor Kalen, and there was a scene earlier where Lucretia and Taako were scolding Angus. (Maybe read it anyway, because it's a hell of an adventure.)
> 
> [update: I realized when @hops posted [For All the Love You Left Behind (You Can Have Mine)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191673) that I really should actually make this part of the series, because as usual the smut has plot implications, sort of.]
> 
> (And, like most of my work, Magnus is involved both in a triad with Taako and Kravitz, and separately with Lucretia. It's complicated, but Magnus is made for love.)

Kravitz turns the silent stone over and over in his hand. Despite Taako’s assurances, he’s still worried about this Kalen business, and now it sounds like Angus is involved somehow. He glances up the stairs. Time enough for that conversation tomorrow, he thinks.

Then he looks down the hall into the front room; Magnus, in pajama pants, shirtless, glances up from whittling and smiles, with a faint question in his eyes. The object in his hands is still just a rough oblong. Kravitz joins him on the long sofa, setting the stone of farspeech onto the side table.

“Don’t get too much of that in the carpet,” he says.

“Dropcloth,” Magnus replies, gesturing down with his knife. Without looking up he asks, “So, you talk to him about that whole thing earlier?”

Kravitz gives Magnus a sidelong look, pausing while he tries to figure out what he can say, and what Magnus will believe.

“‘Cause I’m happy to talk to both of ‘em, tell ‘em to lay off the kid.” He scrapes off a long curl of wood with a deft but forceful hand, frowning slightly.

Kravitz shakes his head. “No, no I think he’s just stressed about this….” He lets the thought trail off. “I’m sure they’ll work it out.”

Magnus laughs. Kravitz is continually surprised by how much he’s come to appreciate...no, to _love_ that laugh, the way Magnus’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the way he expresses his feelings with his whole body without hesitation or artifice.

“Krav, that is a godsdamned optimistic thing to say. Taak and Luce, y’know, they’re two of a kind. I’m still surprised they’ve worked it out this much.”

Kravitz smiles despite himself. “Fair enough,” he says. He leans over and brushes a kiss on Magnus’s jaw. “They love you though.”

Magnus blushes and rubs the spot where Kravitz had kissed him. “Well, that’s just, you know. I do what I can.” He picks up the block of wood from his lap and traces lines in it that Kravitz can’t see. “I guess…. I just love ‘em, you know? And I love—” He inclines his head up toward Angus’s room. “And I’d like ‘em to all….” He shrugs.

“And you?” Kravitz asks, arching an eyebrow. Magnus lets out a long sigh. One hand grips the handle of his knife, the other is loosely wrapped around the block of wood. Kravitz takes them both, resting his hands wordlessly on Magnus’s, and sets them next to the stone of farspeech. The two men sit close enough for their knees to touch. Magnus shivers with a chuckle.

“Boy, wow, I better put another log on the fire,” he says. He pats Kravitz’s knee as he stands. Magnus is absurdly warm, always, and even a momentary brush of his hand radiates enough heat to make Kravitz draw in a sharp intake of breath.

He watches Magnus adjust the fire; all the other usual occupants of the house have magic they can use for all their routine tasks. Instead, Magnus adjusts the flue, adds another log, and uses the poker deftly to get the fire back up and roaring.

When Kravitz started dating Taako, what seems an age ago and yet merely a blink in his long long life, he had no idea he would be deeply intertwined in such a net of relationships. Taako had seemed so distant, so aloof, and it wasn’t that he’d fallen in love with that so much as he’d begun to accept it. Then came the Day of Story and Song, and the _story,_ and Taako, his beloved Taako, _outcast but never alone,_ had not merely his three colleagues, but an entire family of a hundred years.

And now Kravitz has new coworkers, siblings of a sort himself, friends, a kind of son, and Magnus. Generous, open-hearted, recklessly good Magnus who had loved Taako for a hundred years and loves him still, who had been married to a woman now on the other side, who loves Lucretia through everything, who loves…. Kravitz takes a deep breath.

Magnus straightens up, then leans back into a big stretch. “What’s up?” he asks.

“Who takes care of you?” Kravitz replies.

“I do alright,” he says with a laugh. Kravitz hums softly.

“When's the last time someone gave _you_ a backrub?” he asks, voice velvety soft. Magnus looks down at his empty hands, then into the fire, and finally back at Kravitz. Who pats the seat beside him.

“I mean, that's usually _my_ thing, right? I like it, I like making ‘em feel good?”

“Of course.” Kravitz runs a cool hand down Magnus’s bare back. Magnus shivers, but not unpleasantly, and Kravitz takes off his cufflinks, adding them to the pile on the table before rolling up his sleeves. He kicks off his loafers and sits cross-legged on the sofa, angled behind Magnus.

Again Magnus gives a little shiver when Kravitz rests his hands on the top of Magnus’s shoulders. But he leans into it, and when Kravitz begins to knead the muscles with long probing fingers, Magnus groans.

“Alright, who taught you how to do that,” he says, his voice low and rough. “That's… Wow, yeah.” He tips his head to one side and Kravitz works along his neck. “The cold actually….” He barks out a laugh. “I bet that'd do wonders for Luce’s bad knee.” Kravitz smiles to himself. How like Magnus to think of someone else. Then he thinks of Lucretia and Taako, Carey and Merle as well, all out there somewhere in the wilderness on Magnus’s behalf, and he sighs.

Magnus twists around to look at him, soft concern in his eyes. He puts his hand on top of Kravitz’s.

“Hey, it’s—” Whatever Magnus meant to say, Kravitz silences with a kiss. Magnus freezes for a moment. It’s not as though they’ve never kissed, and yet. The two of them are rarely together by themselves; even in bed, Taako mediates between them, the common factor who brought them into each other’s orbit. For a terrifying second, Kravitz wonders if he’s crossed a boundary he didn’t see. He doesn’t even know why he crossed it, only that the impulse had overtaken him.

But he can feel Magnus smile and then kiss back. Magnus is the first to pull away, but only to turn around to face Kravitz properly, to take Kravitz’s hands in his, and give Kravitz that deep sincere look that—now he understands, even more, why people gravitate to Magnus, why Taako makes such a big deal about Magnus’s goodness.

“You don’t have to, you know, just cause Taak’s not here, I mean, I’m a big boy.”

Kravitz chuckles. “Indeed.” And he strokes the back of Magnus’s hand with his thumb, watches as Magnus’s eyes go wide. “This is….” He feels oddly shy. Foolishly shy. More even than he was on those first dates with Taako. And Magnus—they've kissed before, and so much more, he's seen Magnus come utterly undone. Now they're just sitting, Magnus in his pajama bottoms, Kravitz is still entirely dressed, they've gone no further than a single kiss. Why should this—? “This isn't just about Taako,” he says, and realizes that it's true.

“Oh.” Magnus goes pink, as he so easily does, and Kravitz realizes he loves this, too. A moth drawn to the flame, however much of a cliché that is. He leans forward, about to kiss him again, then pauses.

“If— I don't want to— I know this isn't why you—”

And Magnus rushes in, Magnus kisses him, with a tender passion that steals the breath from his undead breast. His hand on the back of Magnus’s head, fingers curled in Magnus’s hair, he feels himself warming and it's so good.

When they part again, Magnus’s lips are slightly parted, his eyes wide, and he's on of the verge of that shy smile Kravitz recognizes from the first times the three of them were together.

“Let me take care of you,” Kravitz says.

“That's not—”

“It is, though,” and he scoots back, puts Magnus’s feet in his lap, and digs into the arch of one foot.

“Well, okay, wow, yeah.” He lolls back against the arm of the sofa and Kravitz slowly works the tendons of his feet, even manages to pop a couple of toes. And for a while, they just talk. About normal things. As normal as things get for them.

He finds himself drawing out Magnus, asking about the dogs, about goings-on in Ravens Roost, about this new hobby he's taken up: crochet as a break from carpentry and carving. _A lot easier on my hands_ , he says with a chuckle. Magnus talks with his hands as he describes the rhythmic nature of it.

Kravitz runs his hands up Magnus’s calves. He's had to start moisturizing, Magnus says with a laugh, otherwise too many snags. Then adds, you wouldn't have that problem, and stumbles in the middle of the sentence with a shiver as Kravitz rests a hand on his knee. Kravitz pulls away, nervous.

“Is it too cold? I could—” He knows how to warm himself, if he needs to.

“No, no, you're actually, uh. You're pretty warm? For you?”

They've spent companionable evenings together before, when Taako has been called away on actual business. And after half a dozen years or more, they're comfortable with each other. But —

Kravitz watches how Magnus talks with his hands. He lost a finger in Wonderland, but the unholy machine that brought back his brother-in-law and his sister-in-law also brought Magnus back, with all his fingers, without the unnatural aging that marks Lucretia. He thinks of Taako, of the pendant that keeps his face as it was before. Of Merle’s one grey eye.

You wouldn’t know, to look at him, that the same necromantic horror had touched Magnus as well. That’s the thing of it, isn’t it? That they love him so well as to track down a man who doesn’t want to be found to get revenge for a man who doesn’t remember.

So while they’re out there, somewhere, he’s here, to keep Magnus busy, to distract him, to make sure that he doesn’t suffer any ill effects. And it’s not perfunctory, not as one might think; he wants this as much as they do— Magnus safe and cared for, revenge had for him and for Julia.

(Kravitz knows, he knows something he can’t tell, something that he honestly thinks that to share would cause pain, and there’s time enough for that, something approaching eternity. Best to savor these short moments in the meantime.)

This is what they do, together: protect the Protector.

He realizes he's lost track of what Magnus was saying.

“Still on this plane?” says Magnus with a laugh. Kravitz's laugh in response is more awkward than he intends.

“I'm glad you're here,” he says. He withdraws his hands from Magnus’s knees inside of his pajama bottoms, wrapping one hand around Magnus’s side, the other he can't quite decide where to go. Knee and then thigh and finally resting on Magnus’s hip.

“Well, okay. Yeah. I'm glad— It's good Taako found someone like you.” His voice breaks slightly on Taako’s name as his hips arc up almost involuntarily and a twinge of desire crosses his face.

“Is that all?” says Kravitz, ghosting a hand over Magnus’s crotch. Magnus bites his lip, blinks.

“Krav.”

“Yes Magnus?” He presses the heel of his hand, gently, and Magnus’s eyes fall closed.

“Oh Krav, that's real, I mean, you're—” He opens his eyes again, and as he looks into Kravitz's, his cheeks turn pink. “Listen, this isn't just because—” He pushes up into Kravitz's open hand. “I'm not just saying—” Again his eyes close; his chest heaves with the effort of breathing. “I— I love you, Kravitz.”

Kravitz stops moving, stops breathing, sits perfectly still with Magnus’s legs resting on him.

Magnus doesn't open his eyes. “Fuck.”

Kravitz's heart beats again with an awful jolt.

“Magnus.”

“Naw, it's…. It's fine, I understand, you and—”

Kravitz shifts his hand to Magnus’s hip, kneading circles with his thumb.

“No, don't. Magnus?” Magnus let out a deep sigh, his eyes still closed. “I had simply never conceptualized it that way, you and I. Without—” He touches Magnus, his hip, his belly, his ribs. “I feel… Warm, with you. And maybe you and I would never have, if it wasn't for Taako….”

Magnus has opened his eyes, at some point while Kravitz looked away. “Yeah, I can't think it would have.”

“But this, to love—” He closes his own eyes. _Love._ The long years that he has been Her avatar, and now, love not once but twice? It's different, but no less true. “I love you, Magnus, not simply as _the one whom Taako loves,_ but as you, yourself.” Magnus brings his hand down onto Kravitz's, and their fingers intertwine. Magnus’s smile is big and open and so warm.

“Coooool.”

Kravitz starts to laugh, but Magnus sits up and swallows the sound with a kiss, then starts laughing himself as he tries to kiss, hold Kravitz's hand, and undo the row of tiny buttons down Kravitz's shirt front with the other hand, all at the same time. They're both laughing when their lips part.

Magnus pauses, licking his lower lip.“I'm wondering— I feel like we should talk? With Taako?” Kravitz's laugh deepens. “Okay, sure, you're right, it's not— It's not like….” He shrugs. “We're all still us, right?”

Kravitz simply kisses him again, then pauses for a long quiet moment, simply regarding Magnus, taking in the totality of him.

“Um, you didn't have to stop,” says Magnus finally.

“The footrub or…?” asks Kravitz with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He's rewarded with another blush, and thinks this too is the delight of loving this man, drawing these reactions from him, seeing him undone with pleasure. And this he already knows how to do. He pushes lightly on Magnus’s chest with a fingertip until the larger man lays back.

“I said I would take care of you,” Kravitz says, savoring the sharp intake of breath from Magnus as he runs a hand over the front of Magnus’s pajama pants. It doesn't take much to draw him to an erection that strains at the soft fabric. Kravitz savors the soft whine, the way Magnus’s eyes squeeze shut, the tension at the corners of his mouth.

When he moves to push aside the fabric, Magnus instead lifts his hips entirely off of the sofa. There's a moment of disentangling legs and pants, slightly awkward laughter, but eventually Magnus’s naked legs are on either side of Kravitz on the sofa.

Kravitz runs his hands up Magnus’s thighs, cups his balls, runs fingers through the tangle of his pubic hair, silently appreciating the glints of red in the light from the fire. He can feel Magnus tense, hear the faintest hitch in his throat. He leans forward, breathing in the scent of him: cedar and sweat, he smells like woodsmoke and just, _life,_ this warm animal body with this gentle soul; Kravitz touches his tongue to the base of Magnus’s cock and it’s like swallowing fire — Taako is warm, of course, but Magnus is heat, and he wants, he wants that fire. He licks up to the tip and it’s throbbing on his tongue: Magnus’s hands are gripped in the cushions of the sofa, and Kravitz peels one free and takes Magnus’s hand in his. Magnus sighs.

He hovers over Magnus, looking up into Magnus’s face, searching. “Yes?” he asks.

“Yes,” says Magnus and it's a groan and a sigh and a prayer and Kravitz takes him into his mouth, wraps his lips around Magnus. Kravitz shifts position to take him deeper and that _yes_ drops off into a moan, Kravitz can feel the muscles in Magnus’s legs tense and relax as he sucks steadily, greedily, a little sloppily. With no gag reflex to speak of, no need for breath, he's utterly focused on the feel of Magnus in his mouth, licking and sucking, one hand still holding Magnus’s, the other grounded on Magnus’s thigh. Magnus’s other hand is in his hair. The rough pads of his fingers are tight on his scalp.

Then Magnus’s leg shifts, and his foot brushes against the front of Kravitz's slacks. He hadn't realized— He moans around Magnus’s dick, and Magnus hisses through gritted teeth.

“Too many clothes,” he mumbles, pulling at Kravitz's collar.

“Bed?” Kravitz asks by way of response, suddenly mindful of their shared household, and without waiting for a response, blinks the two of them up into the bedroom, his and Taako’s, with its magical wards of silence. They're in much the same position, but Kravitz has taken the opportunity to dematerialize his shirt and slacks.

“Better,” says Magnus, and begins to sit up, reaching for Kravitz, who simply pushes him back, his long hands no longer cold, but still cool in comparison to Magnus’s skin.

“Please,” is all Kravitz says, and if Magnus offers a longing glance at Kravitz's own cock, well, there's time enough for that later. Kravitz is here to give Magnus the pleasure he deserves. With barely a pause he returns to where he left off, only with the full expanse of the bed to work on, it's easier to angle himself just so, and to use his hands, greedy for the rough heat of Magnus’s skin. Magnus all to himself, this thing he'd never realized he wanted.

He slowly drags his mouth off of Magnus’s dick, and Magnus follows Kravitz's mouth with his hips with a soft whine. But Kravitz drapes one arm over Magnus’s hips, pushing him down, as he licks and kisses, nuzzling, stroking. The noises he draws from Magnus are deliriously obscene, gorgeous and precious, and every whine and groan just makes him crave more.

And then Magnus starts saying his name. First low and soft, barely more than a whisper, then a steady beat within the stream of hungry babbling, and finally shouting, a fierce sound contained to this room by strong magic. Magnus shouting his name, on the verge of begging him to stop, but he can't, he absolutely must bring Magnus right to that edge.

He wraps both hands around Magnus’s dick, stroking, finally, simple, steady. The exhilaration of it goes to his head, his own aching cock untended. (Later, later. He can wait.) Every fragment of his unearthly being is focused on Magnus.

Magnus spurts, molten, over Kravitz's hand and onto his own belly with an agonized cry. For a long moment after, the only sound is Magnus’s breathing.

Kravitz kisses the top of his thigh before moving to stand. “I'll get us something to clean up,” he says, and Magnus offers a soft sleepy smile.

“Hey Krav,” he says, “c’mere.” And Kravitz walks around the bed, leans down to offer a kiss, but Magnus grabs his ass with one hand and his cock with the other. He looks up with that same smile. “You didn't think—” His mouth is on Kravitz then, and Kravitz's eyes flutter shut.

“I— I— I—” He stutters to a stop at the overwhelming sensation of Magnus’s hands and mouth. The heat of it. He's not going to last long. And as that thought crosses his mind, he's moaning Magnus’s name, raw and guttural: he's done for.

As Magnus pulls off of his softening cock, Kravitz steadies himself with one hand (the clean hand) on Magnus’s head. He lets out a long breath.

“Yup,” says Magnus, squeezing the buttock still in his hand.

“I'm— I'm going to—” And Kravitz waves a hand before heading for the bathroom. He stares into the mirror as he washes his hands, prepares a washcloth. He touches his cheek. He's still warm.

Magnus comes into the bathroom, takes the washcloth from his hands, kisses his cheek. Kravitz turns his head, gives a peck on the lips that deepens. Magnus hums appreciatively.

“Shower?” he asks with a grin. Kravitz chuckles, takes the washcloth back and cleans them both.

“Sleep,” says Kravitz, tossing the cloth in the sink and poking Magnus in the chest with one finger. “You still need it.”

“Sure I _guess,”_ replies Magnus. “Snuggling, though?”

“Always.”

Magnus is practically asleep by the time his head hits the pillow. _Pillows plural,_ technically, since as usual there are half a dozen arrayed propping up his head and tucked between his knees. Kravitz curls against his back, throwing a leg over Magnus’s. If Taako were here, he'd displace other pillows, with that note of affectionate complaint, and abruptly Kravitz misses him with a pang of worry. He doesn't know what sort of bed Taako’s in tonight, he realizes, if he's sleeping at all.

But that was Taako’s choice, to fight and sacrifice for Magnus. Kravitz holds Magnus just a little tighter, hoping he can't sense those worries. Eventually, the rhythm of Magnus’s breathing sets a pulse in his own ageless limbs, softly hypnotic, and he too descends into rest, quiet and content.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this one for _so long_ , y'all, waiting for us to be done with Reckoning just so I could post this bit o' smut.
> 
> Big thanks to @hops, as always, and in particular helping me figure out how to get this back on track when it almost stopped being porn. Your screaming keysmashes give me life.


End file.
